Prickly Romance: Single Dad AMBW (Billionaire Dads)

SAZUKI

The life I left behind is so far removed from the life I lead here in America that it is shocking to see my mother flitting around my kitchen preparing breakfast.

Sunshine pours through the windows, lighting up the canned pickles and natto—fermented soybean paste—that she brought along with her.

My mother hears my footsteps and whirls around. Her eyes are bright despite the early hour. She wears her hair short and fluffy and favors using makeup, even if she plans to spend the day at home.

Today, her eyebrows are painted on perfectly and her lips are a purple-red color. Faint wrinkles curve like happy smiles beneath her eyes and bracket her mouth.

She is not the type to fuss too much about sunscreen or wearing hats. My mother believes in aging organically. She visited a clinic only once—and it was to receive double eyelid surgery when she was sixteen.

I cover my mouth to hide a yawn and croak out a ‘good morning’ in Japanese.

My mother stops short. Her eyes narrow on me. “Why do you speak so formally?”

“Why did you bring half of sobo’s cupboard?” I gesture to the cans that are taking over my kitchen. “Did you have room to fit clothes into your suitcase?”

“You are trying to change the subject.” She hefts the pot spoon that had been stirring the miso soup at me. Drops of the soup plop at her feet, but she does not seem to notice. “You leave for America and suddenly, you forget we are family?”

“I have not forgotten.”

My mother whirls around, her colorful blouse fluttering behind her. She lowers the flame and uses chop sticks to flip the fish over. The smell of frying fish skin makes my stomach gurgle.

“Tell Niko to join us. I have already invited Ashanti as well.”

I stop and study her stern face. Not even the lines of age and exhaustion have softened her. “Mother, what are you thinking?”

“Me? I am thinking that Niko must eat a hearty breakfast to do well in school.” She sets the fish on a plate. “These American cereals. So full of sugar. They are not good for her.”

“Why did you bring Ashanti with you?”

“I told you. We met by accident,” she says, stepping past me and moving the plate to the table.

“Why is your story so hard to believe?”

Her eyes sharpen. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Of course not.” I trail her back to the stove where she slips on gloves and pulls the miso soup from the open flame. “Let me.” I reach for the soup, but she hurls it away. “If you want to be of help, serve the rice.”

I take out three bowls.

Then I hesitate.

Slowly, I take out a fourth bowl for Ashanti.

My mother gives me an approving nod when I return with four bowls. “Sazuki blood runs through Niko’s veins. Because of this, Niko’s mother will forever be joined to our family, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. It would be extremely improper of me to ignore her.”

“The rest of the family had no problem doing so.”

Her mouth tightens. “They have their reasons.”

“The elders barely wish to acknowledge Niko because of her half-American blood. They have not once called or asked about her welfare. She does not even remember her life in Japan.”

“She was too young.”

“And that is a mercy.”

“Are you upset that I am here?” My mother finds my eyes. “Do you think I believe the same as the elders?”

“I do not know what you are planning.”

“Perhaps I simply miss my son.” She glances around. “Now where do you keep your chopsticks?”

“Mother.” I take her hand to stop her from flitting. This is important. I need her full attention.

My mother shakes me off. She wipes her hands on the apron and arches a brow at me. “Ryotaro, we do not have time.”

“I am dating someone,” I say.

The words rattle in the air, floating around as if they cannot find a home.

My mother is a strong, formidable woman. She does not curb her words nor does she hide her thoughts. So it is unsettling to see her hesitate, her eyes shifting, her body language full of discomfort.

Frowning, I lean forward and say, “Her name is Dejonae and she is important to me. Niko has already met her. The two of them are close.”

“You do not need to tell me this.” She shakes her head. “I am not foolish enough to believe you have remained single since moving to America. There is much temptation here in the West.” She shakes me off and steps lightly to the counter, fiddling around with the pickles. “Did I bring enough side dishes?” she murmurs to herself.

“Mother—”

Niko flies into the kitchen and heads straight for her grandmother. The two collide in a joyous hug.

My mother’s delight is all over her face. She brought two giant suitcases from Japan—one was filled with seasonings, fermented soybean paste and pickles. The other was filled with expensive gifts and toys for Niko. Although they do not talk often, my mother dotes on her. She learned a bit of ASL and speaks exclusively in English so that Niko can understand her.

“How did you sleep, my princess?” she coos, tilting Niko’s dark face with her wrinkled hands. “Look at you. Did you grow overnight?”

Niko shakes her head.

I pat my daughter on the shoulder. When she turns to look at me, I sign, “Wash your hands and then we’ll eat.”

She nods her understanding and darts away.

There’s a knock on the back door.

My mother gasps. “Ryotaro, did you lock the door?”

“Of course I locked the door,” I murmur. “I lock every door before I go to sleep.”

“Why should you lock the back one? Now Ashanti has to knock like a stranger.” My mother swats my shoulder. “Go and let her in. Go.”

“Mother—”

My mother flings her chin in Ashanti’s direction.

I sigh heavily. Mother’s story about meeting Ashanti coincidentally in the airport is too convenient. Either way, it does not matter. I refuse to allow their machinations to bear fruit.

That is not only for my sake.

But for the company’s.

Yesterday, when Dejonae was angry with me, I could not focus on my meetings. Emails went unanswered. Phone calls went to voicemail. All I could see was her cold expression when she refused to join me in my office.

Dejonae has become a distraction to me.

If she is pleased, I am pleased.

If she is angry, it is all I think about.

To keep the foundation from sure ruin, Dejonae’s happiness must be preserved.

I walk to the door and admit Ashanti. She offers a brilliant smile and a ‘hey’, before lurching forward and hugging me. Her body presses against mine. The scent of her perfume drags me back to the past.

For a moment, I feel as though I am in Japan, returning home after a concert.

Then I blink.

I remember that we are divorced.

Remember the pain in her eyes when she walked away.

And remember Dejonae.

I wrestled with telling Dejonae about Ashanti’s arrival yesterday. In the end, she was too in-tuned to my emotions and sniffed out that I was hiding something from her. The look she gave me when I told her Ashanti was back in our lives is one I will never forget. Her eyes had widened with horror, fear, and dismay.

Though I did my best to assure her, words are far too fragile.

I refuse to give Dejonae a reason to mistrust me.

Prying Ashanti’s hands from around my neck, I slant her a dark look. “Ashanti, we are no longer together. Kindly refrain yourself in the future.”

“Sorry.” She glances down. “I got excited for a minute. It’s been a long time since I’ve come home to you.”

My eyebrows cinch. Why is she talking in this manner? Isn’t she married to someone else?

I step back. “Wait here. I will bring a pair of indoor slippers for you.”

“No need.” She smiles and dangles a pair off the tip of her fingers.

I nod and together we walk into the kitchen.

Niko grins when she sees us. She waves to her mother. Ashanti gives her a kiss on the head. Her hair is straight and long today. It flows over her shoulder, hiding her face from view as she rocks Niko back and forth.

“Come. Come.” Mother interrupts them. “The food is getting cold.”

I move to the chair beside Niko.

My mother hurries to claim it. “You sit over there.” She points to the chair beside Ashanti. Before I can protest, she falls into the seat as if we are embroiled in a heated game of ‘musical chairs’.

I straighten and give the chair a surveying look.

“Go on, Ryotaro.” My mother pushes my arm.

Niko studies me, her intelligent eyes taking in everything. I do not wish to give her a reason to worry, so I bury my misgivings and sit beside Ashanti.

“Itadakimasu.” Ashanti presses her hands together. Niko bows her head too.

My mother dips her chin, smiles and repeats the phrase.

I mumble it out, which earns me a dark look from my mother and an amused one from Ashanti.

As we eat, my mother spears pieces of the fish and places them on top of Niko’s bowl of rice. My daughter gobbles it all.

“Here, Ryo.” Ashanti expertly pins a vegetable between her chopsticks and places it on my bowl of rice. She leans over me. Her dress is low cut and reveals a hint of cleavage.

My eyes dart there before I force them up to her face. I am relieved that the only thing rising in me is confusion.

Ashanti and I have eaten meals together with her husband and Niko present. At those times, she did not serve me, nor did she wear such revealing clothing.

Expression stern, I remove the vegetable from my rice and place it in Niko’s. A twitch of disappointment flickers over Ashanti’s face, but she hides it well.

“Beth wants me to go to the farmhouse today,” Niko signs.

“What did she say?” Mother asks.

“Her friends invited her out today.” I tilt my head and think about it. “You have a test on Friday.”

“We will study together,” she signs.

Ashanti gets Niko’s attention. “Sweetheart, you need to focus on eating.”

Niko loses the twinkle in her eye.

I glance sharply at Ashanti, despite knowing it is slightly unfair to blame her. Breakfast is always a silent affair. And we have both scolded Niko in the past for signing instead of eating.

However, since our dinner with Dejonae showed us how lively and ‘loud’ a meal could be, I understand why Niko would want to engage in discussion this morning. I resent the fact that she was shut down.

Seeing that my daughter is dejected, I give my consent. “You can go to the farmhouse if Akira accompanies you.”

Niko brightens again like a dying balloon receiving hydrogen.

Ashanti turns to me. “What ‘farmhouse’ is she talking about?”

“Her friends from school are the children of several wealthy and influential couples in the city. The adults often gather together, allowing the children to meet outside of a school setting.”

“Interesting. Are these children deaf too?”

“They are hearing.”

Ashanti’s eyebrows drop low. “So how do they get along?”

“They make an effort,” I say simply.

The conversation becomes stilted. Perhaps it is my tone, my thunderous expression, or my lack of interest that convinces Ashanti to let it go.

After Niko excuses herself from the table, my mother leaves as well. I get up to take a shower when I feel Ashanti’s hand on my arm.

I stop and look down at her.

She is staring at the floor. Her fingers curl around my wrist urgently. “Ryotaro, can we talk?”

I wait—silently—for her to continue.

“Why are you treating me so coldly?” Three wrinkles appear above her eyebrows. “When we divorced, we agreed that we would be friends. We agreed never to be like the other divorced couples who are constantly fighting and talking badly about each other.”

“I am not fighting with you, Ashanti. I simply do not understand why you are here.”

Her eyes dart away. “I missed Niko.”

“And what of your husband? Did he agree to let you quit your job on the cruise ship midway?”

She rises to her feet. Her dress sways around her ankles. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?”

I am not surprised that she knows. Perhaps Akira informed both her and my mother.

I take a slow, calming breath before I speak to her. “I tried to. You did not answer your phone.”

“Are you serious about her?” Ashanti’s voice is quiet. Prying. She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and chews.

“I am.”

She makes a strange sound in her throat, a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “You are not usually so transparent.”

“We agreed to let each other know,” I say. And also, I want to make it clear to both her and my mother about Dejonae’s place in my life. “I have intentions of marriage.”

Ashanti’s eyebrows flutter. “Marriage. Wow.”

I check my watch. “If I have sufficiently answered your question, then—”

“I want to meet her.”

Warily, I glance behind me and study Ashanti’s face. She tilts her chin up. Her eyes survey mine with a desperate calculation.

This is a trap.

A dirty trick.

A thorny path.

I grind my teeth together. “Why?”

“Why do I want to meet your girlfriend?” Ashanti walks toward me. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s going to be a part of my daughter’s life. If she’s involved with Niko, then I deserve to know who she is.”

I face her cautiously. Fighting Ashanti on this will only allow her to become more stubborn and more creative in her schemes. Better to introduce Dejonae on my terms, rather than have my mother and my ex-wife spring themselves on her.

“Alright,” I say slowly. “I will speak to her. And if she is interested, I will bring her to the house.”

“Perfect.” Her lips curl up in a victorious smirk. “I look forward to meeting her.”

I keep my eyes on my tablet as Akira drives me to the foundation. When I feel her gaze on my face, I glance up and she quickly looks away.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Did Niko’s mother take her to school this morning?”

“She did.” I close the tablet.

“And how did Young Niko react?”

“She was happy. Her mother has been away for a long time.”

Akira adjusts her fingers on the steering wheel. “How did Miss Williams react?”

“Akira.”

“Are you going to say it is none of my concern?”

“You seem uniquely interested in Dejonae’s feelings.”

“My job is to protect Niko. I left everything behind to do so.” Her eyes stray from the road. “I see things becoming very tense in the future. And this would not be good for Niko. She has taken a liking to Miss Williams.”

“I won’t let anything happen to my daughter. Or to Dejonae.”

“Life is very unpredictable,” she warns.

“But one thing is constant—my ability to forge my own path. I have learned from my mistakes. This time, I will protect the people I love and keep them close to me.”

Akira settles back in her seat, a pensive tilt to her lips.

Just then, my phone rings.

Adam.

I sit up straight. “Did you receive the email?”

The MTB passed our internal checks, but to manufacture a medical device requires FCC compliance. We have been waiting for a message regarding our approval status.

“I have bad news, Sazuki.”

My shoulders slump and disappointment surges down my spine, tensing my muscles.

“It got approved!” Adam exclaims.

I jerk up in my seat, my mind buzzing.

“Nova had the factory on stand-by. We’re flying over to finalize the contract.”

“I’ll secure a jet. It will be faster than flying commercial.”

“Show off.”

I smile and hang up.

Warmth spreads through my chest and the only person I want to share the news with is Dejonae.

I check my watch and realize that Dejonae should be finished with her last class soon.

“Akira, turn the car around.”

Twenty minutes later, she parks in front of Dejonae’s campus and glances back at me. “We should have contacted your protection team.”

“You are worth five of them,” I say genuinely.

She looks unimpressed by the compliment.

Eagerly, I leave the car and hurry to the music lecture hall. The doors open and students come flooding into the hallway. I glance past each of their faces, searching for the loveliest one.

One glimpse of her turns me into a pillar.

Dejonae is wearing a white dress with a thin braided belt around the waist. The jean jacket she is wearing over it matches the blue bandana braided across her hair.

A boy is speaking to her, standing a little too close for comfort.

I go tense instantly. My eyes narrow on where he is breathing her air.

Dejonae glances up and notices me. She stops. Her jaw drops. Her eyes widen.

I stalk toward her.

The boy wisely moves aside, putting as much distance between him and Dejonae as possible.

“Sazuki, what are you doing here?” Her eyes dart around.

We are drawing a crowd. One particular girl with blue hair is staring at me as if I am a ghost.

“Let’s get to the car quickly,” Akira warns in a low voice.

“Miss Williams,” I gesture to the path, “I would like a word.”

Dejonae’s eyes dart back and forth. Is she thinking of fighting me? I take a step forward, my body alight with adrenaline.

Her stubbornness drives me stark, raving mad and it is the most invigorating feeling.

“Dejonae.” I call her by her first name when she still does not move.

She flings me a panicked look.

Relax. I arch an eyebrow. “It is in regards to Mr. Howel’s collaboration request.”

Relief flits across her face. She gives a serious nod. “Mr. Howel, right. He mentioned that.”

I keep my expression firm and professional. Dejonae asked me not to expose our relationship to her classmates. I will honor every wish she has spoken aloud and even those she has only whispered quietly in her heart.

But if I see any hormonal college boys sniffing around her again, I will not be so quick to hide our connection.

The back of my hand brushes hers as we walk to the car. It is all I can do not to take her hand in mine.

The moment she is settled in the backseat, I drag her to me and plant a deep kiss on her mouth. She draws back when Akira gets into the car and gives me a playful punch on the chest.

“You just do whatever you want, don’t you?” Her words are sharp, but her eyes are twinkling. I interpret that she is not too mad at me.

“I thought I covered that well,” I muse.

“Akira,” Dejonae says, “does he have time to be goofing off like this?”

“Miss Williams, since he met you, Ryotaro’s actions no longer make sense to me. I have given up on understanding him.”

On the ride to the airport, I explain where we are going and why. Dejonae seems excited by the adventure and the experience is ten times more thrilling because she is with me.

We meet Nova and Adam in the private air strip.

Nova gives Dejonae a curt nod. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. You too.” Dejonae motions to Nova’s outfit. Adam’s assistant traded her staple of work jackets and pantsuits for a looser skirt and a blouse. Adam has not been able to take his eyes off her since we arrived.

“You’re right,” Dejonae whispers in my ear when we settle into our seats on the plane. “She is his everything.”

I smile down at her. “I understand how that feels.”

Her eyelashes flutter.

She glances away.

I lift her chin, trying not to get distracted by her lips. They are a vivid red today, as tempting as a freshly-plucked apple against the dark brown of her skin.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yaya went back home today.” Her mouth pulls down at the corners. “I’m trying not to let it get me down. She goes back and forth all the time. But it never gets easier saying goodbye to her.”

“Would you like me to turn the plane around? Nova and Adam can sign the contract on their own.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Yaya didn’t just move to another city for modeling. She moved to be independent. As long as we’re around, we’re going to coddle her. She wanted to live on her own. I won’t take that from her.”

I roll a finger around one of her curls. “I understand. When Niko had to return to America to live with her mother, my heart broke each time.”

She sits up and looks at me. “You’re right. It is kind of like that.”

With her face upturned, my eyes slide to her mouth. It is not the time to kiss her, yet I am absolutely distracted by the prospect.

“Why did you paint your lips red today?” I ask.

She pushes out her bottom lip. “Yaya picked out my outfit. She said I shouldn’t wear T-shirts and jeans anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m dating you.”

“I prefer you in T-shirts and jeans.”

“Is that your way of saying I don’t look good when I’m dressed up?” The cutting look she slants me says ‘watch your words carefully’.

“You look beautiful either way.” I caress her shoulder. “But you do not have to wear anything special to be desirable to me.”

She smiles. Her eyes drift away from mine. “Do you always rent private jets?”

“It is not ‘rented’ exactly. It belongs to my family. I use it on my trips back and forth to Japan.”

Her smirk blooms into an impressed smile. She glances around the plane.

The main cabin has comfortable leather seats. Each section has two seats facing inward to create an intimate cluster. The sections to the back contain desks for a small dining area and a mini bar.

I do not take much pride in the family wealth, but her gawking is quite adorable.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask her.

She shakes her head and checks her phone. Her gaze turns melancholy. Dejonae must still miss her sister.

I take her hand.

She glances up suddenly.

Without a word, I lead her to the cluster of chairs where Adam and Nova are seated. The two look up from their laptops.

“Would you two like to play a game?” I offer.

“A game?” Adam blinks at me as if I have been abducted by aliens. “You want to play a game?”

I find the box of playing cards and return to the table.

Dejonae’s troubled look is replaced with a hint of interest. The blood-thirsty need for competition inside her has awakened.

I distract her with round after round. By the time we have landed, laughter has replaced her pensive silence and the smiles she flashes me are full of life.

“Who knew Sazuki was such a sneak?” Adam mumbles to Nova when we disembark.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Adam,” Dejonae teases.

Nova jumps in to protect him, as she always does. “Adam wasn’t familiar with the game. You both could have gone easier on him.”

“Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.” Dejonae winks.

“I demand a rematch,” Adam insists. His fair skin is turning red beneath his worn baseball cap. “Next time, we play something I’m good at.”

“Which is what?” I tease.

Adam’s jaw drops. He stares at me. “Did you just crack a joke, Sazuki?”

“Not bad.” Dejonae offers her hand for a high-five.

I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it instead.

“Ew!”

“Please refrain yourselves!”

Protests erupt from both Adam and Nova.

Dejonae smiles, her entire face lighting up with joy. And I realize that the tangled web of my ex-wife, my mother’s secret plans, and even my family’s coldness should never touch her.

I will protect her from it.

All of it.

So the only thing she sees is the sunshine.

After finishing with the factory, Adam, Nova, Dejonae and I go for dinner. We stay in the city another hour to visit an escape room.

Adam and Nova beat us to the finish line. Something that causes Dejonae to grumble all the way back to the airport.

“Dejonae, slow down,” I tell her. “You will trip and fall to the tarmac.”

“I told you the key was under the suitcase,” she hurls an angry glare over her shoulder, “but no. You insisted that it was under the chest.”

I snicker beneath my breath.

Adorable.

Not that I plan to say that out loud. With the mood Dejonae is in, she might push me down the stairs.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Nova says, rubbing the loss in our faces. “Adam and I have worked together for a long time. We practically share the same brain.” She gestures to where Adam is walking in behind her. “Not everyone can be this in sync.”

Dejonae grits her teeth.

Steam pours from her ears.

The good news is… she is no longer worried about her sister being gone.

At least I accomplished that.

“I demand a re-match!” Dejonae plunks into a seat. “This doesn’t end here.”

Adam passes me by, pats my shoulder and mumbles, “I never thought I’d find someone more competitive than Nova. Good luck, man.”

I nod, accepting his well wishes.

We fasten our seatbelts as the plane takes off. The air pressure changes and the plane smoothly lifts off the tarmac.

Dejonae is still pouting about the loss.

How strange.

Any other person and I would be annoyed at their stubbornness.

On her, I am utterly charmed.

She is a pop of color in my world.

An explosion of energy.

My gaze lingers on her honey-tinged curls, the thick black lashes, and the sunlight glittering against her dark cheeks like threads of gold.

She glances up. “What?”

“Thank you for joining me today. It was an important moment in the foundation’s history and it would not have been the same without you.”

Her annoyance melts away. She tucks her head into my chest. “You’re welcome.”

I nuzzle my cheek against her hair and marvel at my own irrationality. I cannot allow too many people to see the soft side that Dejonae brings out in me. My reputation is at stake.

Dejonae yawns. “I think the food and the escape room knocked me out. I’m feeling sleepy.”

“Take a rest,” I whisper. “I will be here when you wake up.”

I work on my tablet while Dejonae curls up against me. Her body is warm and her hair smells like a sweet dream.

It takes an immense amount of concentration to absorb the words in front of me when all I want to do is mark her face with kisses until I know every curve and line by heart.

The temptation is too great to ignore. As the plane descends and the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ light pops on with a chime, I lean over Dejonae.

Her mouth is parted.

Her eyelashes are still.

With her head balanced on my shoulder, her lips are as close to mine as my next breath. I can feel every sigh she makes against my skin, the gentlest caress.

My heart picks up speed.

I could very gently shake her awake.

But I do not want to be a gentleman about it.

I glance around to make sure that Nova and Adam are not looking this way. They are engrossed in their own world, both of their heads tucked in front of a laptop. They have been whispering since Dejonae fell asleep so as not to disturb her.

Satisfied that we are not being watched, I cradle Dejonae’s face in my palm. The first kiss is soft, a simple press of my lips to hers, a quiet mixture of oxygen and life.

But it is too tender.

She settles right back against me, unbothered.

I capture her mouth again, sucking on her bottom lip with a sultry, impatient rhythm. She responds to me in her dreams before she opens her eyes.

Our gazes meet.

Dejonae pulls herself closer to me. I shower her soft, perfect lips with nips and caresses until all the lipstick has transferred from her mouth to mine. I tease her with agonizingly slow advances of my tongue until she moans and—

“Sir,” the flight attendant clears her throat, “you need to put on your seatbelt.”

Dejonae and I break apart. She covers her face with her hands and sinks into her chair while I secure my seatbelt.

Despite fearing that the kiss set the whole plane on fire, we manage to land safely.

I help Dejonae to the tarmac.

She holds my hand and looks up at me.

I smile in response.

Being with her is so easy. So delightful.

I keep finding more things to admire about her.

Her intelligence, her wit, her sharp sense of humor, her competitive spirit, her determination to never accept injustice and her refusal to find me as terrifying as the rest of the world does.

She smiles at me and opens her mouth to speak, but her eyes catch on something in the distance. I glance ahead to see what put that grim expression on her face.

Niko is here at the airport.

And she is accompanied by her mother.